Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free! Every little bit helps. Thanks for reading and now, on with the show!
Warning: Full spoilers for the film follow.
I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m as sick of sequels as many other people. Every so often, however, one comes along that manages to not only match its predecessor’s energy but also manages to equal it, that strides across the screen with such panache and style that you find yourself absolutely captivated.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 is one such film.
Now, I’ll admit that I was more than a little skeptical when I found out there was going to be a sequel to a film that was released back in the halcyon days when one-and-done was more the norm than the exception. However, given the fact that the film managed to pull together the same gang–including director David Frankel–I figured it was at least giving it a shot. I’m certainly glad I did. The film made me laugh more than I ever expected and, more than that, it held me spellbound, drawing me back into this world of high fashion and high ideals and delicious bitchery. It was everything I wanted, and perhaps a little bit more.
When the story opens, our beloved Andy has been working as a successful journalist and is poised to receive a prestigious award; unfortunately, her victory is spoiled by the announcement that she, along with her colleagues, have been laid off. All is not lost, however, and she’s soon brought on to help head up the features department at Runway, where she once again finds herself desperately seeking approval from Miranda Priestly, who resents having this young woman thrust upon her. As the film proves, however, the two women have far more in common than either of them might think, and they have to work together to save Runway and perhaps journalism itself.
To say that Meryl Streep devours this role would be a bit of an understatement. Obviously Streep has had many, many, many great roles during her long and storied career, but for my money Miranda Priestly will always be my favorite. To begin with, there’s the fact that she’s fucking gorgeous, with her shock of white hair, her immaculate outfits, and her way of commanding every eye in a room. However, it’s not just her looks; Miranda has depth and genuine emotional investments, even though these might not always be obvious to the people in her orbit. She might be demanding and imperious and at times downright callous, but the thing is that she genuinely believes in what she preaches. She believes in human beauty and achievement, and she’s willing to go to great lengths to celebrate those things, and if you can’t keep up with her, or if you’re not as invested in them as she is, then that’s a you problem.
For her part, Hathaway is reliably bubbly and effervescent as Andy, a woman who has gone from being a wide-eyed neophyte to a highly-respected and passionate journalist. The brilliance of Hathaway’s performance lies in her ability to capture so many different elements of Andy’s character. She is, at once, still the same wide-eyed and somewhat naive woman she was when she was in her 20s and also someone who believes fiercely and passionately in journalism and what it means to American society and culture writ large. Maybe it’s just the millennial in me, but I adore both Hathaway and this character. They both remind us that millennials, for all that the general culture and our elders (and our juniors!) like to mock us, really do believe in things and, just as importantly, we believe they’re worth fighting for.
The mark of a truly great film–and, for that matter, sequel–is its ability to imbue even its supporting characters with their own arcs and their own emotional stakes. In that respect, too, The Devil Wears Prada 2 succeeds, in that it gives both Tucci’s Nigel and Blunt’s Emily their own journeys. For Nigel, this revolves around his desire to be more than just Miranda’s second-in-command. One can easily see why a man of his obvious taste and skill would want something more, and Tucci imbues him with just enough vulnerability that you can see his desire flicker of his eyes. He also has his fair share of softer moments, and I love the chemistry between Hathaway and Tucci.
In some ways, Emily’s story has been even more tragic than Nigel’s, if no less a result of Miranda, who essentially pushed her out of Runway because of her belief that she lacked the creative vision to really flourish there. Blunt, of course, is absolutely in her element, and though she’s as sharp-tongued as ever, there’s still enough human warmth behind her crisp delivery to allow us to see her as more than just a villain. She is, instead, someone with her own struggles and failures and motivations and, to be quite honest, she’s a delight.
Indeed, if anyone can be said to be the villain of this film, it would have to be the tech overlords–so perfectly embodied by Justin Theroux and B.J. Novak–who play their respective billionaires with just the right amount of preening idiocy and suave corporate ruthlessness. They care about nothing and no one but themselves and making sure they get as much money as they can before they destroy the very institutions they control. And, though some have sneered at the film’s commentary about the state of journalism and the ongoing corporate takeover and hollowing out of our cultural life and institutions, I actually think that’s precisely what gives the film its texture, its depth, and its bite. Because Miranda and Andy–and Nigel, and even Emily, in her own twisted way–care about beauty and fashion and human achievement, and because they’re performed with such depth and emotional authenticity by the film’s stars, we come to care about these things, too.
Even if every other aspect of this film had failed, I still would’ve enjoyed and praised the extent to which it highlights the importance of friendship and bonds and respect between and among women. Though Miranda is at first as dismissive of Andy as she was 20 years ago–in large part, one suspects, because Andy has been foisted on her by her corporate master–she gradually gains a grudging respect One of the most poignant scenes, however, belongs to Emily and Andy, who share one last scene together, forging a friendship they should have had years before but which they both clearly need. Sometimes, when you get down to it, all you really need to thrive is a good friend and a basket of fries.
Look, if this is what millennial nostalgia is going to look and feel like when it comes to the movies, we could do a whole lot worse than The Devil Wears Prada 2. This is a sequel that actually has some things to say but that doesn’t lose sight of the fact that its primary purpose is to entertain and delight us. Fortunately for all of us, it manages to do both. What a remarkable gift!
